themselves on the things they raise with their own hands, have no
fine-spun theories about the laws that provide revenue for a Government
they never saw, don't want to see, and couldn't understand if they did.

Marny and I stood before the grating, looking each man over separately.
Strange to say, the artistic possibilities of my visit faded out of my
mind. The picturesqueness of their attire, the browns and grays
accentuated here and there by a dash of red around a hat-band or
shirt-collar--all material for my own or my friend's brush--made not
the slightest impression upon me. It was the close smell, the dim,
horrible light, the quick gleam of a pair of eyes looking out from under
shocks of matted hair--the eyes of a panther watching his prey; the dull
stare of some boyish face with all hope crushed out of it; these were
the things that possessed me.

As I stood there absorbed in the terrors before me, I was startled by
the click of the catch and the clink of keys, followed by the noiseless
swing of the steel door as it closed again.

I turned and looked down the corridor.

Into the gloom of this inferno, this foul-smelling cavern, this
assemblage of beasts, stepped a girl of twenty. A baby wrapped about
with a coarse shawl lay in her arms.

She passed me with eyes averted, and stood before the gate of the last
steel cage--the woman's end of the prison--the turnkey following slowly.
Cries of "Howdy, gal! What did ye git?" wore hurled after her, but she
made no answer. The ominous sound of drawn bolts and the click of a key,
and the girl and baby were inside the bars of the cage. These bars,